


The Demon's Progress

by solomonara



Series: The Demon's Progress [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Demon!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Sam is sick of Cas and Dean's shit, demon!dean is more annoying than evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solomonara/pseuds/solomonara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is embracing the more fun aspects of this whole demon thing. Now he and Cas are at each others' throats and Sam is sick of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this amusing little scenario in my head of what would happen if, after the events of Season 9, Dean just decided 'Yeah, ok, demon now, let's do this.' I figured both he and Cas would be major players for their respective sides, yet at the same time completely ineffective against each other because they know each other so well. And with Dean in hell and Cas in heaven, what about Sam?
> 
> The following is the result of those musings...
> 
> UPDATE: Finally got this beta read by the exacting [DragonSorceress22](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSorceress22/works). You may also notice that this story is now part of a series of the same name. Apparently... we're going to keep going along this theme. Subscribe to the whole series if you want updates.

 

_"I stopped watching over my soul; I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts; [...] I tempted the devil, and he is come to me."_

_-_ The Pilgrim's Progress _, John Bunyan_

 

"No, Krissy, it's not a Medusa. There's no such thing as a Medusa, there was _the_ Medusa, but she's - no, yeah, the word you want is gorgon. And it's not a gorgon."

Sam switched the phone to the other ear. "Yeah, send me the pictures. I'll let you know." He hung up with a heavy sigh and pulled his computer closer, waiting for the email. It came not five seconds later. Sam glanced at the pictures of the unknown creature's victims and was about to reach for a copy of _Chamber of Secrets_ to mail to Krissy (because how was 'basilisk' not the first thing anyone thought of when human statues started cropping up) when something in the corner of one of the pictures caught his eye.

"A feather? Hm." He checked the other pictures, then stood and went to the bookshelves, selecting a few volumes to take back to the table and pulling out his phone to call Krissy back at the same time.

"Hey, Krissy? Yeah, I think I know what you've got. You're gonna need a weasel, a mirror... and probably a gas mask," he told her.

"Boy did I walk into this conversation at the wrong time."

Sam let out a strangled noise and dropped half the books he was carrying. Dean was sitting with his feet up on the table, grinning the grin that said he wanted Sam to feel very uncomfortable with the kinds of thoughts he was thinking.

"I'm gonna have to call you back. Get the stuff and we'll talk soon," Sam said into the phone, glaring at Dean as he hung up and bent to retrieve his books. He stacked them next to his computer, sat back down, and proceeded to ignore his brother while he verified his suspicion of Krissy's creature feature.

 

The first time Dean had appeared out of nowhere in the bunker, Sam had been... distraught was a good word. He'd gone for the nearest weapon, which happened to be a vial of holy water, and flung it at Dean, hitting him square in the chest.

Of course, becoming a demon hadn't broken most of Dean's habits and he was still wearing roughly fifteen layers of clothing, so the water didn't actually come close to touching his skin and he'd simply gone into his old room and found a few dry shirts in his old closet and gotten changed _really carefully_ while Sam grabbed the knife and some rounds carved with devil's traps and made for the exit - which is when he'd run smack into Castiel.

"I need to talk to Dean. I know he's here," Cas had said, as though Sam was trying to _hide_ him.

"You're damn right he's here. Did you find something that can help him?" Sam asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"That's not what I need to talk to him about."

Dean chose that moment to emerge from his room, pulling on his last layer of dry clothing. Cas shoved past Sam and strode purposefully across the room toward Dean. Dean's eyes went black at the sight of Cas even as his grin spread wider with wolfish intent.

Sam watched in astonishment as the two proceeded to berate each other in heated voices - Cas accusing Dean of deliberately thwarting his plans in petty ways (Sam was pretty sure he caught the word 'unprofessional') and Dean lashing out at Cas for 'soul poaching.' This didn't go on long before Cas pulled an angel blade and took a stab at Dean, who promptly vanished. Cas was less than a heartbeat behind. Sam was left on the stairs clutching his gun and his knife and wondering how worried he should be about what he'd just witnessed.

 

The second time it happened, Sam was more prepared. No sooner did Dean pop up than Sam leveled a gun loaded with devil's trap rounds on him and demanded answers.

"How the hell did you get past the wards, Dean? This place is locked down, you drew most of the wards yourself and they're all still intact. So what gives?"

"Little brother, you would not believe the resources available down in Hell if you just have the sense to look. There's this Talmudic scholar, been there for, oh, millennia, and--"

Sam never learned any more than that, though, because Cas turned up promptly and this time didn't waste any time on words. He just reached straight for Dean's head and, oh God, was he really going to smite him?

But Dean stepped into Cas's reach, grabbed his arm, and the next thing anyone knew the angel was flying across the room - and not under his own power. He recovered quickly, though, and Sam found himself in the middle of a full on fight between an angel and a demon, which was not doing the furniture any favors, and Sam had had enough.

"Exorciamus te, omnis immundus--"

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Dean protested, ducking under a swipe from the angel blade. "What the hell you think is gonna happen if you exorcise me from my own body, Sam?" he demanded. The question caught Sam by surprise and when he paused to consider it, Dean winked at Cas and vanished.

Cas straightened his coat with a scowl. "He is unusually strong for a demon," he said, before vanishing himself. Sam did not bother pointing out that Dean hadn't even brought out the First Blade.

 

The third time it happened, Sam was over it. Dean showed up in the chair across from him just as Sam was pouring himself his 20-somethingth cup of coffee toward the end of a sleepless 48-hour research-and-hunt session for a particularly perplexing case. Sam's eyes were most of the way closed, his head resting on his hand. He was desperately searching for the energy to raise the cup to his lips when he smelled sulfur. He didn't even try to open his eyes, just groped around amid the detritus on the table for a little salt packet from one of the fast food bags that were piling up and flung it at Dean without even opening it.

"Very funny, Sam," said Dean, and he actually did sound amused.

"What do you _want_?" Sam whined, his arm sliding out on the table and his head slowly lowering.

"You would not believe the month I've had, Sammy. Cas is riding me harder than--"

"Please do not finish that sentence. Which I pray is metaphorical," Sam said to the table, which was feeling more and more comfortable.

"Ha. You're hilarious when you're sleep deprived. Seriously though, I need to find a way to get him off my back."

"Is this something you think I'm going to help you with?"

"Nah. Well, I mean, if you want to I wouldn't say no. But mostly," Sam heard Dean's chair scrape on the floor and a moment later heard the fridge open. Bottles clinked. "Mostly I just need to vent. Can't do it down below, can't look weak, you know. Plus, you always have beer."

Sam wasn't sure how this particular encounter ended because he fell asleep right there on the table. When he woke up, Dean was gone.

 

The fourth time it happened, Sam actually tried to talk to them.

"Ok, look Dean, Cas is right, crossroads deals are still bad even if you only target drug dealers and murderers. I mean, a demon deal is a demon deal."

Cas looked smug while Dean glared so hard Sam was sure his eyes were about to go black. He turned to Cas.

"But, Cas, I mean Dean kind of has a point too. Siccing a whole flock of Cupids on him just because you know they make him uncomfortable was a little petty. And probably dangerous to the Cupids."

"Ha!" said Dean, triumphant.

"There was a possibility their unique skill set would be able to find some humanity--" Cas began.

"Save it, Feathers, we all know you did that just to be a dick," Dean retorted.

"And how would you characterize your own efforts to convince a significant portion of the population that my name is that of the patron saint of erectile dysfunction, and that they should pray to me when experiencing difficulty in that department?" Castiel asked.

"I would characterize that as damn hilarious."

"Uh, ok, look we're getting a little off topic here. Do you think maybe you guys could both agree to let other, um, agents handle your guys' cases? Cas, maybe send other angels to deal with the problems Dean causes, and Dean, send other demons to thwart Cas? Because neither of you is going to get anywhere if you keep getting distracted by - uh - each other," Sam said hopefully.

"Yeah, right, like any other demon could handle Cas," Dean said right at the same time as Cas said, "Dean is my responsibility, as he has been since the first time I pulled him from Hell."

"First time?" Dean said incredulously. "Implying that you're gonna manage it again?"

"I intend to do more than 'manage' it, Dean. I will end your demonic existence. One way or another."

"You arrogant son of a--"

The conversation devolved from there. Sam massaged his forehead with the heels of his hands, then left them to it, retreating to his room with a good pair of headphones.

 

This, then, would be the fifth time Dean had decided to show up unannounced in the bunker, presumably just to bitch about Cas. Sam flipped through the book on top of the stack and marked a promising-looking page before moving on to the next.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam marked an entire chapter for review in the next book and moved it to another stack.

"Sam. Sammy. Hey, what are you working on?"

Sam almost answered out of habit, but instead slid another book closer to himself. Dean was still a demon and there was no way he was telling him anything about Krissy, Aidan, and Josephine hunting things up in Oregon.

"You can't ignore me forever, Sam."

"Dean, I ignored Lucifer for months, do you really think you're going to bother me?" He probably had enough material now. He checked one last book just to make sure there wasn't anything he'd missed.

"No. Well, I mean, let's be fair, you didn't really _ignore_ Lucifer, I seem to recall kind of a lot of shouting at walls and a brief stint in an insane asylum, but hey, who's counting."

Sam slammed the book closed and finally looked up at Dean, jaw set, lips pressed tight with annoyance. He actually opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it and instead stood, gathered up the books he needed, and turned - straight into Cas, almost spilling all of the books out of his hands yet again.

Cas put a steadying hand on the small stack of texts, saving them from falling. "Sam, your brother--"

"His brother what?" Dean asked, poking his head around Sam so that Cas could actually see him. Cas's countenance immediately darkened.

"Why are you always here? Sam, you're not helping him, are you?" Cas asked with a suspicious glance up at Sam.

"You think I need help to mess with you? Come on, Cas," Dean said in disappointed tones.

Sam rolled his eyes and kept walking, headed for his room. Cas and Dean trailed him, scolding each other like a pair of crows. Sam tuned it out, even when they followed him right into his room. He pulled an already-packed duffle out from under his bed, dropped the books in and dragged it out into the hallway. There was one more thing he needed.

"--not the one who involved an army--"

"--supplying hundreds of witches--"

"--can't just _decide_ to move an entire town--"

Sam went into one of the unused rooms that contained only a dresser and an old bed, kept in case of visiting Men of Letters, he supposed. Dean and Cas followed him in.

"Sam, can't you talk some sense into your brother?"

"Sammy, will you _please_ tell this featherbrain he has more important things to be worrying about?"

Sam rummaged around in the top drawer of the dresser briefly, found the lighter he had left there, and walked toward the door, Dean and Cas still bickering at his back. Just before he passed the threshold, though, he stopped and turned to face the two of them, who were standing in the middle of the room looking like they were about to draw weapons.

"Guys. You need to work out your issues." He flicked the lighter open and on and raised it as high above his head as he could reach. The ceilings weren't very high, and he was very tall, so the flame leapt easily from the lighter to the circle of holy oil he'd painted around the perimeter of the room. In the middle of the circle of flames, drawn in more ordinary-looking paint, was a devil's trap. Dean and Cas stared at him with markedly similar expressions of astonishment.

"Yeah, Dean? I can't believe you just walked into that. I'm kind of disappointed," Sam said.

"Sam, what the hell? I've been bypassing your wards for months now, you think I can't--" Dean made to leave the circle but was stopped by an invisible wall.

"About that. Turns out there aren't that many Talmudic scholars condemned to Hell for several hundred years. Crowley knew exactly who I needed to talk to."

" _Crowley_ helped you?"

"Oh yeah, did I mention? You guys are pissing him off, too. He says he's utterly disappointed in your productivity, Dean. Says you're distracted. So, congratulations, you are standing in a specially crafted Dean trap - a devil's trap with modifications for a specific demon. Not easy. Unless of course you have a part of the demon. Like hair." Sam smirked. This was what Dean got for never cleaning his bathroom. And for leaving all his crap behind when he moved to Hell.

"Sam," Dean said, and the word was a low, gravelly threat.

"Hey, items of emotional importance would have worked too. I could have ground up your Led Zeppelin tapes into the paint."

Dean paled.

"This is a mistake, Sam," Cas said, his voice urgent. "It is good that you found a way to contain Dean, but you must release me."

"No. I'm sick of the two of you. You obviously have some things you need to work through; I'm just giving you a nice, safe space to do it. Try not to kill each other."

"Sam, why are you doing this?" Cas asked.

"Oh, let me think Cas. Maybe it's because for the past several months I've been constantly interrupted by your dumb little fights. You guys might be busy with Heaven and Hell, but here on Earth, regular, every-day people still need saving from monsters. So if you'll excuse me," Sam hefted the duffle bag. "I've got a cockatrice to hunt. See you guys later."

Sam shut the door on their protests and left the bunker, feeling lighter than he had in months. Honestly, he had wanted to lock those two in a room together even when they were all on the same side. If the bunker was still standing when he got back, he would call this definite progress.

His phone rang as he pulled away.

"Hey Krissy. ... What? No, they don't sell them in pet stores ... Because it's illegal to own one ... No, I don't think a ferret would work ... Oh, you did? Then I guess you have a pet ferret now ... I don't know, how about Draco? ... Draco. Like from - ok, you know what I'm bringing you some books to read. I'll be there soon."

Sam turned around, parked the Impala, ran back to the bunker and crept down the stairs to the bookshelf, scooping up all seven _Harry Potter_ books. He paused to listen, couldn't decide whether the utter silence was encouraging or worrying, and, against his better judgment, poked his head down the hallway to check on the room where he'd left Dean and Cas.

The door was still closed, and he could see the flicker of light from the holy flames through the gap at the bottom. But no arguing. He'd expected at least a little bit of yelling. Had Dean escaped somehow, leaving Cas trapped in the room? Sam crept a little closer and suddenly was within earshot of what was happening inside the room.

He could make out both Cas and Dean's voices, but they weren't fighting. Or at least... they _probably_ weren't fighting. Those _could_ be sounds of pain, but really, they sounded more like... Sam's eyebrows shot up and he made a hasty retreat.

Progress indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote I used from Pilgrim's Progress has a couple of different variations. The original reads "I left off to watch, and be sober" instead of "I stopped watching over my soul." Given the way language has changed over the years, I opted for the modern revision of the line since 'sober' doesn't really have the same connotations that it had when Pilgrim's Progress was written, and 'I left off to watch' barely makes sense as a construction anymore ('left off' means something different now and the infinitive just isn't used that way anymore - these days it would be a gerund. Hence the revision.)
> 
> And now you know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-chapter ficlet, but then Sammysdaemon asked for a short follow-up with Dean giving Sam a hard time about the events of chapter one, and... well. I couldn't resist. And now I've had to bump it up to an M rating too. Sorry. (Not really.)

 

_Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?_

_-_ The Pilgrim's Progress _, John Bunyan_

 

Sam was barely out of Kansas, squinting against a solid blue, impossibly wide Nebraska sky and kicking off dust clouds into an endless expanse of astonishingly _flat_ farmland when Dean nearly made him drive into the ditch along the side of the road.

"Hiya, Sam," he said, appearing in the passenger seat. Sam was fairly proud of the fact that he only jerked the steering wheel a little, and that he had managed not only to stay in the right lane, but also to swallow any vocal expression of the fact that he had just experienced a sinus-clearing burst of adrenaline. All those years of Cas turning up unannounced in the back seat had been excellent practice.

"How did you get out, Dean?" Sam asked with a scowl. Dean stretched (as well as a Winchester _could_ stretch in the Impala), crossed his arms, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and just generally settled in with an expression so smug that cat ears and a feather poking out of the corner of his mouth would not have been out of place.

"Well, now, Sammy, I thought teamwork was the whole point of that little display of yours. Me an' Cas, working together? Tit for tat? I scratch his back, he scratches mine? Though I don't mind telling you, he left _marks_."

"So help me, Dean, I will ward this car against you."

"You wouldn't _dare_."

"Rosaries hanging from the rearview mirror, Jesus fish on the bumper," Sam promised.

Dean leaned forward and patted the dash protectively. "Don't worry, baby, I won't let the mean Sasquatch do that to you."

"What are you doing here, Dean?"

"Why? You gonna run to Crowley and tell him I'm breathing on you?"

"What?"

"Calling up the King of Hell to find a way to trap your older brother is kinda sketchy, Sam. Especially since that means that Crowley now knows how to do it!" Dean spat out, going from languid to pissed in the space of a heartbeat. Sam glanced away from the road for an instant to risk a quick check of Dean's eyes. He was relieved to see that they were their normal color, though Dean's expression alone was a bit alarming. He started looking for a place to pull over, just in case. "What were you _thinking_?" Dean continued.

"Excuse me? Since when are you so anti-Crowley? Or are you forgetting your little bromance during the whole Abaddon thing?" Sam couldn't help pointing out, despite the little corner of his brain that was vehemently pleading _don't poke the demon, don't poke the demon, don't poke the demon!_

Dean growled, and Sam wondered if he'd noticed that Sam had taken one hand off the steering wheel and put it subtly on his gun. The rounds in this one wouldn't kill Dean or even hinder him for any length of time, but they'd buy Sam a few precious seconds. If it came to that.

It didn't. Dean huffed and threw himself back in his seat, arms crossing once more. "That's right," he said. "I forgot. You're Sam fucking Winchester. All you _do_ is think. I bet you _think_ you and Crowley are square, a favor for a favor. I'm sure you _think_ you covered every angle." A small grin started to tug at the corner of Dean's mouth. "Actually, I bet me an' Cas covered a few you hadn't thought of. Or did you? Tell me, Sammy, how detailed did you get in your planning? Did you imagine me and Cas trapped in that little room, nowhere to go... did you imagine him trying to take me down, only to end up on his knees--"

"Stop antagonizing Sam, Dean."

Sam was so tense that this time he almost did let out a little yelp when Castiel appeared in the back seat, but Dean just twisted around in his seat with a distinctly predatory grin that was all for Cas. Now his eyes _did_ go black, but it was definitely not in anger.

"Hello, lover," Dean drawled and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, grave as ever. Then he unceremoniously sliced the pad of his thumb and sketched a quick sigil on the Impala's roof.

"Hey, don't - aw man, Cas, what the hell," Dean protested, his eyes fading back to normal in his chagrin.

"It is imperative that we not be overheard," Cas said by way of explanation. Dean smirked.

"Funny, you didn't seem to think so when I was--"

"Dean! Overshare!" Sam interrupted.

"Hey, if you didn't want to hear, you shouldn't make a habit of listening at doors, Sammy," Dean said, unperturbed. Sam felt his face heating. How the hell had Dean known he was there? He had seemed pretty... distracted. Cas's eyebrows crinkled together in confusion.

"I don't understand what our carnal activities earlier have to do with the situation now," he said.

"Oh, God, Cas," Sam groaned while Dean guffawed.

Cas looked annoyed. "As I told Dean earlier, I also don't see what God has to do with it."

Dean's grin threatened to split his face while Sam resisted the urge to bang his forehead on the steering wheel.

"Look, I wasn't _listening_ , I was just trying to make sure you two weren't killing each other. Apparently I didn't need to worry about that!" Sam said. Wasn't there anywhere to pull over in this entire state?

"Indeed, Dean and I have come to an understanding," said Cas.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Dean murmured. Cas ignored him.

"And we need your help," he continued, and this time both Sam and Dean choked.

"Please, _please_ clarify that for me, Cas," Sam said. There, up ahead - a little bit of gravel shoulder and a tractor path through the corn. Sam pulled over, put the Impala in park, and rubbed his hands over his face, taking a deep breath.

"What angelface back there is trying to say is, we need your help to overthrow Crowley," Dean explained.

"Oh. Good. Because, you know, that's gone _so_ well for us in the past," Sam said.

"We have a little more firepower on our side this time," Dean pointed out.

"I have happened to find myself in command of the entire Host of Heaven," Cas added.

"So, what, another war between angels and demons? Heaven vs. Hell? Earth in between?" Sam shook his head. "I don't think so, guys."

"Not a war," Cas said. "A coup. The Host has resources beyond martial capability. In addition, we have Dean perfectly placed within enemy territory. If all goes according to plan, the mortal plane will see very little of the struggle and Dean will be installed as the new King of Hell without anyone knowing Heaven's hand was behind him."

"Wait wait. You want to be _King of Hell_?" Sam was incredulous. "Dean, it's one thing to--"

"To what? Be a demon? Be the heir to Cain? Sam, you have no idea the power I've got now. I'm not exactly stunt demon number two over here. We _can't_ shut down Hell. We've been there, done that, got the soul-destroying t-shirt. The best we can do is control it. Believe me, I know." Dean was dead serious now and Sam found himself thinking that if his brother, the best damn hunter on the planet, who excelled at everything he ever bothered to set his hand to - from hunting monsters to torture to creating a damn near perfect burger - decided that what he wanted was to rule Hell, then woe betide the poor creature who stood in his way.

"O...k," Sam said slowly. "So where do I come in?"

"Think about it, Sam. We've had the power to take Crowley out for a long time now. He's just a crossroads demon, and we've ganked Lilith, Lucifer, Abaddon... but he's slippery. It's not gonna be about strength; to win, we need to out-plot Crowley."

"The Men of Letters left a wealth of resources that could be useful. In addition, it is critical that we have a neutral, well-secured meeting ground that we could plausibly visit without raising suspicion," Cas added. Sam suppressed a groan.

"You want to shack up in the bunker?"

"Hell yes," said Dean, while at the same time Cas said, "I'm not sure I understand the meaning of the phrase..."

"This is a terrible idea," Sam said, mostly to himself.

"It's not just the bunker, Sammy. We could use your help on this one. I do seem to recall you have a brain hiding somewhere under all that hair."

"Dean. We talked about this," Cas said in the tone of someone correcting a toddler.

"Fine. Sam, pretty please help us depose the King of Hell so I can take his place on the throne and do unspeakable things to Castiel upon it."

"Dean--"

"No, it's fine Cas. I'll help," Sam said, and he could hardly believe the words himself. He turned in his seat and looked seriously at Dean and Cas. "But you guys are doing this together. All the way. Cas, you get my brother on the throne of Hell, you stick with him even after. Don't let him turn into--" and here Sam almost choked on his words because he had been about to say _into Alistair_ but Dean didn't need that right now, none of them did. "Well you know what I mean."

"Of course," Castiel promised while Dean rolled his eyes. Sam turned on him next.

"And Dean, you keep an eye on Cas. He's running Heaven, and that's - well - things have gone kind of badly for him in the past," Sam said awkwardly because, really, it would just be rude to say _Try to keep him from swallowing millions of souls, changing the past, or cracking open any other dimensions, ok?_

Oh, this was _such_ a terrible idea.

"Don't worry, Sammy, I'll keep him on a tight leash." Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam, and Sam had to laugh. Cas narrowed his eyes.

"That was... a metaphor, yes?" he said. "It would be difficult to execute my duties in Heaven if confined by a leash."

"Yeah, Cas, it's- huh." Dean turned toward the back seat to answer Cas but stopped short. Cas's head was just slightly tilted, lips parted just the barest amount as he considered the phrase. Dean's mouth snapped shut and he vanished, reappearing instantly in the back of the Impala. In the space of two heartbeats he had a startled Cas laid out across the bench seat, one hand pinning a wrist, the other gripping his hair. Cas got out one gasp before Dean's mouth covered his and Sam was tumbling out the driver's door swearing sulfurously and determinedly not looking back.

"It's cool!" he called. "Don't mind me!" He went around to the trunk, grabbed his duffel out of it, and slammed it rather harder than was strictly necessary. "I'm just gonna walk to Oregon. And when I get back we're gonna have a talk about _boundaries!_ " he shouted. There was no indication he'd been heard.

"Terrible. Idea," Sam repeated to himself, pulling out his phone and dialing.

"Hey Krissy? Yeah, I'm gonna be a little late..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not believe how many quotes from Pilgrim's Progress are adaptable to this fic.
> 
> Also, that must have been some pillow talk if Dean and Cas went from trying to kill each other to plotting to take over hell together in the space of a few hours.
> 
> Hey, Sammysdaemon, if you're reading this I hope I did all right. I didn't manage to fit in all that much of Cas defending Sam, but it would seem that Cas is the one who needs protecting from Dean >:) Oops.
> 
> (UPDATED because I finally got it beta read - thanks [DragonSorceress22](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSorceress22/works). Keep an eye out for the next part of this series - I'll be posting it as a separate work so make sure you follow this series and not just this work if you want updates.)


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